Masterful 3 (An Erotic Dark Romance)

by Jesse Joren

  She grinned at me, giving a very French shrug.

  "One baits La Madame at her own risk," she said.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  "This is my costume?"

  "This is exactly as stipulated," Yvonne said, smoothing the thin, flesh-colored bodysuit that fit like second skin. "No shoes, no jewelry, no makeup. Your hair washed, left long and natural."

  The bodysuit showed every curve, and underneath I wore a slightly darker G-string. Compared to the gorgeous ensembles of the other girls around me, I was completely outclassed.

  We were being prepped in a long, low room that seemed to vibrate with the energy of the impending auction. Every kind of beauty was represented: sleek evening gowns, catsuits of mesh and lace, elaborate body paint that substituted for clothes. Every shade and style of hair, from sleek chignons to glorious manes of curls.

  Chalk-white faces, with blood-red lips, dramatic cat-eyes above pale pink mouths. Sky-high heels of black leather over leather pants, demure white Mary Janes below school girl skirts.

  "I feel like a wallflower," I grumbled. "How about at least a little mascara?"

  Yvonne shook her head, giving my hair one last flick with a heavy brush.

  "Madame said only this. There is one other piece to your ensemble I need to check. I'll see you before the auction begins."

  She gave me an encouraging smile before disappearing into the crowd. I saw other handlers with the other girls, some females and some males. God only knew how much Hex was paying for this fantasy to come to life.

  "You're American, aren't you?" asked a sweet, unmistakably Southern accent behind me. "Gratz. You're one of three here tonight, me included."

  I turned to see a tall, stunning girl with blonde hair pinned in a glorious Grecian knot on the back of her head.

  "You're from Texas?" I guessed, hearing that certain drawl that seems to grow east of the Mississippi River.

  "Austin is as Texas as it gets, honey." She smiled and held out a slender hand. "You might hear them call me Gaia, but since you don't look like a buyer, I'm Megan."

  "Eva," I said as we shook hands. "Or Eve, if you decide to bid on me. I like your dress."

  She was wearing a gauzy white dress that barely came to the tops of her long legs, the flowing sleeves framing her arms beautifully. The dress was sheer enough to show the shape of her body underneath, but opaque enough to leave something to the imagination.

  "It just screams Earth Mother, doesn't it?" she laughed. "This is my second time here being pregnant, so Madame is having her little joke."

  Her hand smoothed the front of her dress. Under the gauzy fabric, the firm curve of her belly was sensual and proud, making her look like ripe and very feminine.

  She scanned me up and down with a practiced eye, then her keen blue gaze skipped over the other girls scattered in the large hall.

  "Pretty full tonight. There's probably going to be quite a crowd of buyers who want to check out the stock."

  She gave me a sly look, chuckling at my expression.

  "Don't ever let 'em see you sweat," she advised. "Everyone talks about dominant this and submissive that, but the bottom line? We have all the power tonight, so don't forget that."

  "Good advice. Any other tips for a new girl?"

  "The Madame and her crew keep you in the dark that first time. Maybe they think it heightens the experience. This is really like a Texas square dance."

  "Pardon?"

  "You dance with the one that brung you, as my grandpa used to say. Other buyers will bid, but that's polite and for show. They know you're not really for sale, so don't let it make you nervous."

  It was good to know this, but the idea of standing on a stage while strangers eyed us and made cash offers sent a ripple of fear through me. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  At the same time, fear and uncertainty were making the dark, wet heat of my desire grow inside of me. This was so different than building the fantasy on a computer screen. Frightening, raw, and more exciting than I could have dreamed.

  "Thank you" I said, taking a deep breath. "Maybe no else will bid, and it won't be an issue."

  "I wouldn't count on that," she said with a grin. "You seem nice, but you smell like trouble. Just saying."

  All at once a commotion at the far side of the hall made us both turn. The heavy wooden doors burst open, with a girl being pushed through it by not one but two handlers. They were larger and rougher than Yvonne, their stern demeanors indicating that they didn't put up with any nonsense.

  The girl was medium height with a mop of curly auburn hair tumbling into her face, pretty and slightly freckled. She was wearing a leather vest that hugged her upper body, which was soft and feminine in its curves.

  Below the waist, her body had upped its game. The curves of her ass and thighs were Rubenesque, accentuated with a leather G-string and a garter belt attached to sheer black stockings. Her high black boots had an equestrienne flair, and her struggles were those of a spirited animal who defied handling.

  Appearing exasperated, the taller of the two handlers brandished a wicked-looking crop and brought it down hard on the girl's ass. The crack through the hall brought a wave of gasps.

  Megan glanced at me, looking amused.

  "I've seen her before. I think her auction name is Filly. Believe me, no one is doing anything she doesn't like. Someone paid a whole lot of money for this little scene. Two handlers? Pricey."

  As the struggling group passed, I could see other whip marks on her pale skin, almost glowing in the dim light. The girl met my eyes as they passed on the way to the auction hall. Her face was flushed, but she gave me a brief wink before they passed.

  Somewhere in the hall, a deep gong sounded. Handlers herded us toward two massive, metal-cased doors at the end of the hall.

  "Would you like to be treated that way?" I asked Megan.

  "No, ma'am," she said frankly. "Luke and I are really very private. This is just our treat before the babies arrive."

  She gave me a saucy wink and tossed her golden head.

  "I may be married," she said, "but I ain't dead, honey."

  We were passing through the large doors, into a chamber that was smaller and darker. Actual pitch torches lit in sconces on the walls. The effect was like stepping back to a time where auctions like this were real and not just for show.

  Each side of the long narrow room was lined with tall, upright cages, their black metal doors yawning open. Madame Colette clapped her hands together, and the excited babble of the room silenced.

  She met each pair of eyes, as if daring anyone to speak.

  "You will file forward," she said, "and each of you will enter a cage. No position is better than the other. Be quick about it."

  "What's this about?" I managed to say in a quick aside to Megan. "Isn't there an auction stage?"

  "Previewing," she whispered as we shuffled forward. "The buyers want a chance to see us before the bidding starts."

  An uneasy knot twisted inside of me as I walked down the line, selecting a cage near the end of the row and stepping into it. As soon as I turned, Yvonne was there to close the heavy iron lock with a small key.

  "You are doing well?" she asked.

  I nodded, even though the cage wasn't large enough to turn around now that I was inside. Comfort must not be the goal here.

  "Good. I brought something for you to drink," she said. "We don't want you fainting at a critical moment."

  She held a heavy silver cup to the bars, and I was able to drink by tilting my head. The wine was light and sweet, quenching the thirst I hadn't realized was there.

  How many girls like me had Yvonne coached through nights in this dark, smoky hall? Her dark eyes were friendly and warm, but they gave nothing away as she patted my hair away from my face.

  "I'll see you right before you go to auction," she said. "Now be a good girl. Or not, as suits your pleasure."

  With an impish smile, she was gone.

  The cages w
ere filled with girls of every size and shape, hair and skin of all shades gleaming in the light of the torches. My bodysuit was glaringly plain, and in spite of my nervousness, I longed for something pretty to be added.

  Fingertips brushed my arm. Megan was able to stretch just far enough from her own cage to touch me, giving me an encouraging smile.

  "We may not have much time to talk," she said. "Just take a deep breath. Enjoy the night because it goes fast."

  "Silence." Madame Colette glared down the long line of cages.

  Megan winked at me as she drew back and stood tall inside her cage. All around us the other girls were doing the same, with one notable exception.

  The girl Filly was rattling her cage defiantly. One of her handlers stepped forward and made a deft flick with the crop, finding her ass again.

  With a show of reluctance she subsided, but the stern attendant's lips twitched as though trying not to smile. No one could deny that Filly was having the time of her life.

  The air of anticipation was almost visible, shimmering among the torchlight. As the large doors were thrown open again, a rush on indrawn breaths sighed through the room. One of them was my own as my heart began to pound.

  Madame Colette stood grandly just inside the doors, her pearls gleaming against the stern neckline of her gown.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "I invite you to preview tonight's offerings."

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  A throng began to make its slow way into the long room, stopping to inspect the girls closest to the door. Now I was glad to be at the far end, giving me a chance to let the scene unfold.

  The mixture of people flowing into the room was rich with variety: men in tuxedos and suits, others in flowing robes rich with color. A very few women were sprinkled among the crowd, but it was harder to see them as they flickered in and out among the men.

  After a moment something else drew my attention away from the flood of fabrics and styles. Every buyer wore a full-faced Venetian mask, no two quite the same. Some were plain, some elaborate, some all-white, others a kaleidoscope of colors, but the overall impression was sinister.

  These faces held their silent power and gave nothing away as they inspected all of us who were completely on display.

  The buyers began to stop by cages, eyeing the girls inside and sometimes reaching in to touch and stroke whatever interested them. Some girls brazenly showed their bodies, some affected shyness. Some tossed their heads to show their spirit, others trembled and cowered.

  It was a rich, bewildering tapestry of sexual roles and fantasies starting to play out. The brisk gaiety became something more quiet and intense, almost primal.

  Through the crowd I had a glimpse of Filly, flanked by a trio of admirers in rich, flowing robes of colorful silk. One of them was using a small but wicked-looking quirt to flick at her generous ass. The tight cage prevented her from moving, but she didn't seem to mind.

  Another reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out something wrapped in fine, lacy gold paper. It looked like a bite-sized pastry topped with chocolate and dripping with thick, pale filling. The tiny treat was lost in his large, dark hand as he pressed it to her lips between the bars.

  With one gulp she accepted it, licking his fingers. It was too far away to hear anything they said, but the look on her face and the slow undulations of her body spoke for themselves. The buyer stroked her face as she shuddered and panted.

  Megan's voice was low, covered by the voices of the buyers.

  "I can't make up my mind which one of is her dominant," she said. "Maybe they all are. Or maybe they're just the hired help, so to speak. You see everything here."

  The crowd of buyers was slowing filtering through the room, and my eyes scanned the group trying to pick out Hex. Several men had a similar build, but all wore masks and some gloves.

  You'll know his eyes.

  The thought comforted me, but it didn't stop the nervousness as I watched the buyers. The masks were frightening and fascinating in their anonymous stiffness. During one pass of the room, my eyes brushed against those of a woman in a leather bodysuit.

  "Don't make eye contact," Megan cautioned, "because that's a—"

  The woman met my eyes and came toward me with long, purposeful steps. She was holding a short, thin cane with a thick wooden handle.

  "—sign of interest." She snickered. "Now you've done it."

  The woman stopped in front of me, the white-and-gold mask creating a strange but attractive complement to her shiny black clothing. Her hair was almost to her waist, cascading down her back in a sleek red fall.

  She prowled restlessly around my cage.

  "Madame is showcasing you very simply tonight. Nothing to get in the way of those lovely curves."

  Her voice was husky and considering as she slid the crop through the bars, nudging between my thighs. Then it was her free hand touching me, the flat of her palm running over my breasts.

  "It's very clever, this costume," she went on. "The illusion of modesty, but nothing truly hidden. What is your name? You may address me as Lady Cosima."

  I swallowed around a dry little click in my throat.

  "Lilith, Lady Cosima."

  Her eyes met mine, a strange and tawny gaze accentuated by the gold appliques on the mask.

  "And does this place and all its strangeness make you frightened or wet, Lilith?"

  "Both," I said in a low voice, not meeting her eyes.

  "Good. Would you like for me to bid on you tonight, to teach you your place with pleasure along the way?"

  "No," I said immediately, realizing too late how rude that sounded. "I mean, it's…um… an honor to be considered, but…"

  Shit.

  Why hadn't Yvonne or someone prepared me for questions like this? How did you politely decline advances after you'd signed up for a slave auction and let strangers put their hands all over you?

  Her laugh was rich and amused.

  "Hardly flattering, but the honesty is refreshing. You're an interesting choice to the right buyer."

  Her eyes found Megan in the cage next to me, sweeping her up and down in a gaze that missed nothing.

  "You are well, Gaia?"

  Megan smiled "It's good to see you again, Lady Cosima."

  "And you. I see you've been busy. Congratulations on the child."

  "Is there anyone here who interests you tonight, milady?"

  The lady laughed.

  "Yes, but how I keep hoping that the custom will bend enough to allow your male counterparts to be included. There's really nothing quite like having one of those, especially an arrogant one who needs to be taught his place…"

  The tawny eyes behind the mask went dreamy for a moment, and I fought down a smile. One look at her, and Peter would replace me as his Ma'am forever.

  Her gaze sharpened again as she saw a curvy brunette in a tightly laced corset a few cages down.

  "Behave yourselves, and be good tonight. I believe that's a slave who might need a firm hand."

  She stalked away from us, her heavy boots moving with authority. As fascinating as she was I was relieved to see her go.

  "Did she scare you?" Megan sounded amused.

  "Some," I admitted. "Weren't you?"

  "Not really, but I wasn't the one called her over. If you don't want attention, don't ask for it."

  "Point taken."

  I lowered my eyes and didn't look at higher than waist-level at the buyers starting to swirl around us. Even so, I felt their eyes on me and also Megan, appraising our bodies and their possibilities.

  Waves of warm flushes were spreading over me, even though I was standing perfectly still inside the narrow cage. The arousal inside of me reared its head again, and I tried to focus on what was happening around me.

  A male buyer in an elegant dark suit had stopped in front of Megan. Unlike the formal footwear I was seeing on the other feet around me, he was wearing a pair of black cowboy boots. An unmistakable single star of Texas
was tooled into the side of each boot.

  His mask was reminiscent of a longhorn. He didn't speak, reaching in to stroke the loose knot of hair on the back of Megan's neck. Her face was soft with love, eyes wide and misty. There was no doubt in my mind that this was her husband.

  The intensity of their connection was like a shimmering bubble enclosing them, somehow more intimate than the bodies around me in every stage of undress. I repositioned myself as much as I could, turning away to not intrude on their moment.

  A silent man in a beautiful white sherwani was standing there, startling the hell out of me. His long formal robe was adorned with hundreds of creamy, subtle pearls and stiff with gold embroidery. The severe cut showcased the body of the man wearing it, suggesting a tall, lean frame and subtle muscularity.

  A finger touched under my chin, tilting my face upward. The mask was masculine and elegant, the red jewel set in the forehead making me think of a maharajah. A pair of large, jet-black eyes twinkled down at me through the eyes of the mask.

  "How very charming," said a low, cultured voice with a hint of British accent. "Simplicity in the midst of Babylon. Your name?"

  "Lilith."

  "Madame always has a reason for the names she chooses. Perhaps she senses in you a desire for forbidden knowledge?"

  The touch on my chin tightened. His voice took on a cool, tigerish note of savagery in spite of the detached words. There was something oily in that smoothness that gave me a jolt of real fear.

  Sarcasm was always my refuge. "Maybe she just knows that I really like apple pie."

  His coldness came right through the mask. The fingers tightened on my chin, hard enough to hurt.

  "As do I, and a bruise is the sweetest part of the apple."

  "Move your hand," said an equally cold voice, "or I'll give you some bruises that won't be sweet."

  Hex.

  Relief washed over me. It was definitely him, wearing a black tux and matching black shirt that showcased his gorgeous body with a sleek, panther-like grace. His mask was also black, a single silver slash below one eye.